The Black Mark
by EleanorWeasley
Summary: Elladora Black is Hermione Granger. Sent into the future by the Dark Lord to gain information on the war, Elladora has returned to 1977 but not with the information he was expecting... Her eventual involvment with the marauders, James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew influences the way forward for the future of the war, but is it for the good or bad...?
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**November 1960**

The family of three appeared out of nowhere; the taller two grasping hands tightly. They shared a quick glance with each other through sorrowful eyes, then averted their attention to the small bundle in the woman's' arms. They exchanged another small glance and sighed simultaneously before walking forward.

'Are you ready?' asked the man.

'Not even close,' replied Walburga Black.

They turned the corner into a wide, deserted street; the only sound the steady clacking of Walburga's heels against the cobblestone road. A harsh wind attacked them; causing them to wrap their black cloaks around them tighter, and Walburga pulled the small bundle closer to her chest.

'We'll see her soon,' said Orion, his long black hair whipping his face as the wind blew between the gaps in the houses, 'Besides, we still have Sirius.'

Walburga huffed and looked down sadly at the girl in her arms. Her small mop of black, shiny hair was barely visible through the white baby blanket she was wrapped in. '17 years can't come fast enough,' she said, 'Besides; Sirius is a _boy_.'

'I'm quite aware of that,' Orion said, giving a throaty chuckle, 'What is the problem with Sirius? He shall grow up to become the Black family heir, and will marry Andromeda in order to continue the Black family name.'

'You wouldn't understand,' Walburga snapped. 'You're male.' She walked in fast powerful strides that left Orion a couple of paces behind, closed her eyes and took a deep, steadying breath; willing the tears that threatened to fall to disappear. Blacks never showed emotion, no matter how drastic the situation. But a lone tear managed to escape Walburga's eye as she thought about her task. Most people would consider it an honour to be called upon the Dark Lord. They would willingly give up their child to appease him; Walburga wasn't as willing. For years she had wished to have a child of her own; preferably a girl, of which she could spoil and dote on. Eleven months after she had gotten her one enduring wish, she had been ordered to part with her beloved child for the Dark Lord. Sure, her child had a twin brother, Sirius, but Walburga had always preferred females to males.

Orion had caught up with her, and Walburga quickly tried to discard the tear with the back of her hand. Orion saw the movement and grabbed his wife's wrist and looked at the salty tracks marring her face. His usually emotionless façade was replaced with one of understanding as his eyes flickered down to his daughter. He, too, had always wanted a child; he was content with Sirius, but Elladora had always tugged at his heartstrings in a way that Sirius couldn't. When his daughter looked at him through the trademark silver eyes, he would gladly hand her the world on a silver platter. He took his wife's face in his hands and wiped the tear away with a soft flick of his thumb.

'It will be okay,' he soothed, resting a gentle hand on the girl in Walburga's arms. 'Come – we're going to be late.' With one last swift glance in his daughters' direction, Orion placed a soft kiss on Walburga's forehead and started walking down the deserted street. They were nearing a dead end, but as they drew closer, the outline of a mansion became visible against the silver moon. A lone figure stepped out from the shadows and started walking towards them; the metallic thuds of boots echoing through the street.

'Ah, Walburga,' the figures voice carried across the street in crystal clear quality, 'I was beginning to think you had lost your way.'

'Not at all, Cygnus,' Walburga replied, as her brother, Cygnus Black came striding into view, 'Sirius wasn't happy to be separated from Ella.'

'Ah yes.' Cygnus nodded in understanding, 'Well, he is betrothed to Andromeda; an awful match if you ask me. The male should always be older than the female in my opinion. Are you sure you won't consider pairing Elladora and Sirius together?'

'Completely sure,' Walburga said firmly; Cygnus had brought up this conversation every time they had seen each other since Elladora was born, and she was getting irritated with giving the same answer every time. 'If anything, Elladora shall have a say in who she marries; I already have a list of suitors for her.' Nothing in that statement was true. In actual fact, Walburga believed that her daughter should not be wed. Not that she wouldn't attract males; if she had the Black family genes, she should have no problems finding a husband. Walburga just felt that no one would ever be worth her daughter.

Cygnus nodded again and offered his hand to Orion, which he shook half-heartedly. He had never been too fond of his wife's brother; he would be forever flouncing his three daughters in his face at every family reunion. Together, the three plus one child made their way to the large, iron gates, were Cygnus held onto both Walburga and Orion as he walked through them as if they were transparent.

'You need to be marked to gain access,' he explained smugly as he let them go, 'It's a shame you haven't been marked yet Orion; you are one of the few Black males who aren't.'

Orion shrugged, but he chose to say nothing. The truth was; he, along with his wife, thought the Dark Lord had the right idea; the muggles that surrounded their house were better off dead. In his time at Hogwarts, Orion had been disgusted at the number of Mudbloods tainting the school; there simply wasn't enough space in the wizarding world for anyone but the purebloods. Squibs were useless, Muggles were as good as dead and Mudbloods just got in the way. Once graduated, Cygnus had received the mark a mere year later, but Orion bowed to no one, and so chose not to receive the mark.

Stones crackled at their feet as Orion, Walburga and Cygnus strode towards the front door of Bulstrode Manor, which swung open as Cygnus pressed his left forearm against it. They stepped into a dimly lit hallway that stretched far into the darkness, and started walking towards the door at the end. It seemed that Cygnus had been here numerous times, as he ignored the piercing stares of the surrounding portraits of deceased relatives, where as Walburga walked behind Orion; eying the portraits warily. Cygnus halted suddenly in front of a large, oak door, and hesitated for a second before turning the brass doorknob, and gesturing for his companions to enter.

The drawing room was full of silent people, all seated at a long, wooden table. Their heads turned to the door as the three newcomers entered, and one man smiled a frightening smile.

'Ah, Cygnus,' a high, clear voice sounded from the top of the table, 'I see you have brought our honoured guests.'

Cygnus beamed proudly and lowered himself into a low bow, 'My Lord, Lord Orion and Lady Walburga Black have brought their child.'

A cackle sounded from the top of the table as a pale, white man came forth from the shadows; his fingertips touching each other in an evil manner. His blood red eyes gleamed through the darkness as he focused them on the child in Walburga's arms. 'You have done well, Cygnus,' Lord Voldemort said, never once moving his eyes from the young girl. 'Sit beside Abraxas.' Cygnus beamed again as he strode over to the eldest Malfoy, who was seated a mere three places away from Voldemort.

'Ah, Orion Black,' Voldemort said, addressing the man, 'I knew I would see you here one day. Come - sit'

Orion said nothing, but simply put on a blank expression as he walked forward to the seat across from Cygnus. Walburga, however, was avoiding looking at Voldemort, and was darting her eyes around the room in fear as she took her place beside her husband. Voldemort fixated his eyes on the fearful woman, and his cool, grey lips turned upwards into what could only be a grin.

'My dear Walburga,' he said, 'Look at me.'

The words were crystal clear, yet they only made a droplet of sweat travel down Walburga's forehead. Beside her, Orion was throwing her not-so-subtle glances; indicating that he wanted her to do as the Dark Lord wished. The scraping of a chair sounded and every Death Eater turned to the noise. Voldemort was making his way over to Walburga; his black robes billowing behind him. Once in front of her, he tipped her chin up with a scaly, white hand and looked into her eyes.

'Look at me.'

Red eyes met silver as Walburga had no choice but to look into his eyes. She blinked in fear, but Voldemort just kept staring; as if trying to peer into her mind through her eyes. Seconds passed yet no one made a sound; just sat in silence watching the exchange. A whimper sounded. Then another. Voldemort's thin brows scrunched up in confusion. The sound wasn't coming from Walburga, but rather the bundle in her arms. Voldemort looked down and grinned. He snatched the blanket from her arms, ignoring her gasp. Cradling the bundle in his arms, Voldemort pulled back the blanket to reveal an infant, who was blinking away the sleep encrusted on her dark lashes. Her short tuft of black, shiny hair fell in front of her trademark silver eyes as she slowly opened them and stared at the pale face of the Dark Lord. Her mouth opened in an 'o' as she stretched out a pudgy hand to touch the evil man's face. A collective intake of breath was heard throughout the gathered Death Eaters as they awaited their masters' reaction. Voldemort merely smirked down at the infant; his eyes gleaming with achievement as he walked briskly back to his master chair, Elladora still in his arms. His eyes held a manic gleam as he pushed the hair out of the girls eyes and placed her onto the table

'My loyal followers,' he began; his red eyes surveying the group, 'I am deeply sorry for calling you at such short notice,' he continued; not sounding remotely apologetic. 'I call of a subject of important nature; one that could guarantee us complete control over our world.'

Cautious whispers and excited murmurs broke out amongst the gathered followers; even Walburga and Orion looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

'Knowledge of the future is… vital in the time of war,' Voldemort began, slowly staring to walk around the table, 'It could decide the outcome – it could inform us of where we stand in the next decade.'

As he passed Walburga, Voldemort trailed a bony finger across the back of her chair; lightly touching her back, sending shivers down her spine. His deliberately slow movements and speech had each Death Eater hanging onto every word that dripped from his cruel mouth. Elladora sat oblivious on the table; her eyes wide with fascination as she put her finger in her mouth, effectively dribbling all over the mahogany.

'Which is why I have chosen a child to travel forward through time; she will learn of our place in the war, and in time, shall return to us to pass on such information.' Voldemort paused for his declaration to settle in amongst his followers. Mere milliseconds later, shouts of triumph and laughter erupted from the gathered; all of whom were amazed at their Lords latest scheme.

'My Lord, might I enquire as to why you have chosen a child to complete such a feat?'

Silence immediately fell upon the table as all eyes swivelled round to the man who dared question their Lord. He was of pureblood nature; his clothes tailored with not a stitch out of place, his pointed face complete with a dark goatee which matched his long flowing hair.

'Lupin…' The Dark Lord hissed, recognizing his newly recruited follower, 'You have a… problem with my choice?'

John Lupin sat shyly at his spot five seats from the Dark Lords vacant chair. It was very uncommon for a half blood to be accepted into the Dark Lords ranks, but after five years of service, his commitment often disguised his blood status; earning him a higher place in the followers.

'Not at all, my Lord,' he lied smoothly. He thought it was despicable that a child was being forced to leave her home to find information; even if it was information about the war. It was an abomination. Inhumane. 'I was merely inquiring as to who shall be housing her upon her arrival to 1979.' Lies.

Lord Voldemort smiled. John Lupin had proved to be an excellent asset to him over the past couple of years; in sharing the same blood status, the Dark Lord felt a special connection with John. Although he was not from a wealthy background, he shared the same views of that of the many purebloods seated at the table. All it took was a little push in the right direction five years ago and John came running to follow him…

'She shall be brought up in the house of the Lupin's,' Voldemort said; smiling as he saw the looks of horror on his followers' faces. They were all well aware of Lupin's blood status, and were obviously outraged by the fact that a pure-blooded witch would be brought up by such people. Voldemort paid them no heed, and turned his attention to John. 'I understand you have welcomed another person into your family recently…?

John beamed with pride. Remus John Lupin was everything he could have ever hoped for and more. At 8 months, he was already showing signs of accidental magic; the occasional flicker of flame if he didn't get his own way; the simple navigation spell when he lost his stuffed wolf toy. John knew the Dark Lord was disgusted by his choice in wife; it was frowned upon to have a muggle as your partner. But, John was undeniably in love with Anna Holborn, and so when the Dark Lord questioned his choice in partner, he simply stated that in marrying Anna, people never suspected his Death Eater identity.

'I hope that in putting the child in your care, it shall not affect your living arrangements with your son,' Voldemort said, not showing a lot of care. Lupin was quick to reassure him that it was a great honour to house the child. Voldemort slowly started walking back to his seat, his robes billowing behind him. Lupin breathed an inaudible sigh of relief as the Dark Lord walked away from him. It took every ounce of his self control to refrain from voicing his views on the task set upon the child's shoulders.

'Now, my loyal and dear followers,' Voldemort started as he sat down in his chair, 'we must alter the child's appearance; we cannot have Dumbledore recognizing this child in the future.' Malicious grins lit up the death eaters faces; Walburga blanched. If her daughter was to be posing as the daughter of a half-blood, the Dark Lord would rid her of her pureblood features, making her look like some ordinary child.

Elladora sat oblivious to the excitement around her, and started scratching the table with her tiny, stubby fingers. The Dark Lord looked down at her, and raised his wand. A flick of his wrist and Elladora's black shiny hair was instantly turned an ordinary brown. The Death Eaters cheered. Walburga let a tear roll down her face. Another flick and the brown hair became curly and messy. Another tear escaped from Walburga's eye. The child started to cry; she was becoming more aware of the changes happening to her and they hurt – a lot. A minute later, and the child sitting on the table was unrecognizable. Her brown hair matched her chocolate eyes, to which the usual excited glimmer was absent. Her nose was larger than its normal button-like state, and her teeth looked too big for her mouth. The Death Eaters were openly laughing now and Orion and Walburga tried to hide their disgust. Their child's appearance was the complete opposite of that of a purebloods; they couldn't recognize their own daughter.

The Dark Lord raised a hand, and instant silence fell over the table. 'Now – we must name her.' His eyes instantly seek out Walburga and Orion. His eyes lit up, and a grin spreads across his face. 'Ah, Orion,' he said, 'it seems only fitting that you be the one to name your daughter.'

Orion said nothing. His face was alight with embarrassment; no doubt Walburga's was too. The Death Eaters started laughing again.

'It can't be too pureblood now-'

'Make it extra muggle-'

'Can't be suspicious-'

With every jeer from the Death Eaters, Orion's face turned a deeper shade of red. He stole a glance at Voldemort, only to find said man staring at him, a thin eyebrow raised.

'Is something wrong, Orion?' he asked. The Death Eaters stared at him, waiting for his reply. Yet Orion remained silent. Voldemort tutted. 'Pity… Are you sure you do not know any muggle names?' At Orion's silence, Voldemort tutted again. 'Oh well – how about you, Lupin?'

Lupin fidgeted in his chair as he faced his Lord. 'How muggle does this name have to be, my Lord?'

Voldemort pretended to look thoughtful for a second. 'As muggle as possible.'

Lupin thought for a moment – he and Anna had both agreed on a name for a name if they were to ever have a girl. 'Hermione,' he said, letting the name roll off his tongue. It was Anna who had introduced him into the works of Shakespeare, and 'The Winter's Tale' had quickly become his favourite. 'Hermione is as muggle as a name can be.'

Voldemort gazed at Lupin proudly. 'Whilst I dislike the name, I am pleased with your choice.' He turned to Orion. 'Only the parents of the child can change their name. You must do it.'

Orion stood on shaky feet, breaking his hand from Walburgas tight grasp. He walked towards his daughter and raised his wand to her forehead. '_Mutare nomen- Elladora Black ad Hermione Lupin.'_

Elladora glowed a brilliant white light for a second; the Death Eaters shielded their eyes with their robe sleeves. The child seemed unfazed however, as if nothing had changed. The light dimmed, and immediately a spell was cast at her, and words appeared above her head.

_Hermione (Surname Unknown)_

_Born September 19__th__, 1979_

_Birth Parents; Unknown_

As the words cleared, cheers rose around the table. The first part of their plan was complete. Voldemort raised his wand once more and pointed it to the child. 'Now, she will be sent to 8 Harworth Road, London, on the day November 6th, 1980.' A piece of paper was produced from the end of the Dark Lords wand. He threw it over to Lupin. 'Her identity.' There was a prolonged silence as the Dark Lord turned to the child. '_D__einceps__spatiu__m!' _

As soon as the words left Voldemorts lips, bright light surrounded the child again, but this time, a look of sheer alarm was on her face as her eyes sought out her distraught parents. She was disappearing; fading through time.

'_No!' _

Walburga ran forward and held out her arms to take her child, but her arms simply held the air. Like a ghost, Elladora was transparent, and growing more faded by the second. All too soon, she was gone.

ooOOoo

**November 1980**

'Robert – Robert come quickly!'

The quick footsteps of Robert Granger could be heard padding over the grass from the other side of the small garden; his tousled brown hair windswept from working on the flowerbeds all day. 'What, what is it Jane?' he said, looking around for any sign of danger.

Jane Granger stood riveted to the spot. She was staring at a bundle on the ground. Shakily, she bent down and picked it up in trembling arms. Pulling back the blanket, she gasped. 'R-robert...' she trailed off and looked up at her husband. Robert wordlessly took the bundle from her arms and cradled it. 'She has a note.'

He carefully took the note and unfolded it.

_Hermione _

_Born September 19__th__, 1979_

_Take Care of her._

Jane looked up at Robert again. 'What does this mean...?' Robert was at a loss for words. Only Jane's elderly mother knew of their inability to have children; they had only just realised their incapability, and so were still recovering from the shock of it all.

'We must take her to the police right away.' Robert said, already shrugging on his coat.

Jane looked heartbroken. 'But – but Robert, what if, what if someone left her... for us?' Robert paused. 'We still must take her to the police.' He took his wives face in his hands. 'If she is no one elses to claim, we will try to adopt her. But we must do the right thing just now.' Jane nodded.

A month later, the paperwork was complete, and Hermione Granger became known to the world of 1980.

**A/N: ** **Hey everyone! Sorry this chapter was a little delayed – I had to finish all the notes for this story... So the overall vote was for me to post this story – review or pm me to tell me what you think and I might update some more! Please tell me what you think!**

**EleanorWeasley x**


	2. Chapter 2: What?

**Disclaimer – I **_**always **_**forget to put disclaimers at the start of chapters... So... Please don't make me say it... I don't own Harry Potter, and I never will... Original Characters of course are mine**

**A/N: **

**Hello everyone! Wow – the amount of response from the last chapter was great! I really didn't expect that! Thanks to everyone who reviewed/favourite/put me on alert!**

**Also, I have a couple of things to clear up about the last chapter...**

**Basically, Hermione was found by the Grangers instead of the Lupins' because the Lupins' had just moved out – I forgot to add that part in! Oops...**

**Also, I forgot to mention that yes, the appearance change on Hermione was permanent – let's just pretend that Voldie cast a non verbal permanent charm on her – I love magic!**

**Also, a reply to the Guest review – I am 13, not 12 **

**This is a reeeeaaaaalllllyyyy short chapter – but I really wanted to get this up today... RIP LILY AND JAMES POTTER! **

**Hope that cleared some things up for you! Now, onto the chapter!**

Chapter 2 – 1998; The Year It All Went Wrong

The Final Battle. It was here.

Enormous holes gaped in the stone walls from spells gone awry; the once magnificent roof of the Entrance Hall was on the verge of falling in, courtesy of the long, thin cracks stretching across it. Scorch marks marred the stone floor, were spells had narrowly missed their victims, or in worse cases, were the spells had hit their target, and the victim was lying a few feet away. Left and right spells flew, lighting up the dark sky and illuminating the deep red blood stains on the floor. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had never looked so broken.

In the midst of battle, a girl was running at full speed up an empty corridor. Her bushy brown hair tied in a hasty ponytail, Hermione Granger turned into an empty classroom, gasping for breath. Her eyes were laden down with heavy bags due to lack of sleep over the past couple of days. She put her hands on the table; supporting her weight with her arms, and caught her breath. Hardly anyone was left. Remus Lupin, her mentor, her friend, was lying in the Great Hall. He could have been sleeping, but Hermione had learned the difference between reality and hope a long time ago. Beside him lay Tonks, looking equally as peaceful. Her failed attempts at capturing the heart of Remus Lupin didn't matter anymore. The list of the dead went on. Molly. Kingsley. Neville.

_Breathe Hermione, control yourself. _She mentally scolded herself; cursing her inability to compose herself.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione left the classroom, wand drawn and a steel look of determination on her face. As soon as she exited the door, she was immediately engaged in battle by a burly Death Eater. A quick flick of her wrist and the man was down, but she had no time to feel guilty. A loud explosion and a chorus of screams sounded from the other side of the corridor. Kicking the fallen Death Eaters robes off of her feet, Hermione took off in a sprint; careful not to run in a straight line. Lights of all different colours passed her in her attempt to reach the crumbling remains of the Main Door, but due to recent months spent running, she picked up quite a speed. She reached the end of the corridor and immediately stopped in her tracks. The corridor was in ruins. The crumbling stone and crimson splattered debris was blurred by Hermione's tears. Cries could be heard from above and underneath the rubble. The muffled voices from underneath grew faint until they became inaudible. The anguished cries of the people trying to retrieve them from the rubble grew louder; more pained.

'No - no - no!' someone was shouting; they're voice ringing above all the others. 'No, Fred! No!'

Redheads immediately descended on the ruined corridor, desperately looking for the soul of their family. Rubble was hastily flung to the side in the rush to save Fred. Broken out of her trance, Hermione sprinted towards the group, desperate to help in any way. She saw the broken face of Percy; tear tracks creating clear lines down his blood stained face. He was frantically throwing debris aside. A flick of red hair flashed from underneath a particularly large piece of rubble. Percy's face instantly lit up and his speed increased. Fred's full face was visible.

'He's still breathing!' Percy's hoarse voice rang through the corridor, causing everyone to turn to him. He pressed his ear to Fred's chest; each faint beat of the heart sending a course of hope through his body. 'Somebody help me - P-please. My wand – it's not mine... I-I can't use it...It's not working... P-please...' He broke down in tears at his brothers' side. He had never looked so broken. He looked around frantically; looking for someone in the crowd. His eyes rested on Hermione, and immediately he stood up and shot a spell at her. Hermione jumped in fright and scrambled back. Another spell sent by Percy. She lifted her own wand and quickly produced a shield spell. Another spell shot from beside her; Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan had joined the fight. She now had three people duelling her, and yet she had no idea why.

'What are you doing?!' she cried in confusion. 'It's me – Hermione!'

Percy snarled. 'We may be young Bellatrix, but we aren't stupid.' The fatal green curse brushed against Hermione's ear as Percy's' words sunk in. Bellatrix...?

A shield charm in place, Hermione tried to run forward to Fred, but a quick _bombarda_ from Dean and Seamus had her sprawled out on the floor. Her wand lying a few feet away, Hermione felt helpless. 'Dean...'she whimpered, 'Seamus... what are you doing?'

The duo said nothing but advanced on her slowly, wands drawn, and an angry glint in their eyes. 'How dare you,' Percy spat, pushing his way in between Dean and Seamus, 'How dare you kill my own mother, and have the nerve to pretend to be my friend?' Hermione stared at him in utter bewilderment. Wands were pointing directly at her nose. She was wandless; she was trapped.

She scurried backwards, only to find her back pressed against a wall. This was it. A jinx was thrown; Hermione ducked, and it hit something behind her. A loud crash sounded from above her; a mirror had smashed, and was lying in shards around her. She glanced into one of the pieces, and gasped. Her reflection showed not that of herself, but of a girl with striking silver eyes. Gone were her trademark brown curls and in their place sat perfectly straight black hair. Her mouth was open in shock, showing her straight teeth. In short, she could have passed as the twin of Bellatrix Lestrange; albeit with straight hair.

Another hex was thrown at her, this time a sickening green. Again, she rolled out the way, and cried in protest. 'Please!' she cried frantically, 'Believe me – it's me! Hermione! Let me save Fred!'

Percy wouldn't stand for it; more curses were thrown at Hermione. 'Prove it!' his shout echoed through the corridor, 'Prove to us that you're Hermione.'

His voice cracked; Hermione knew it was taking all his willpower to give her a chance to prove herself, when she looked exactly like the person who had killed his mother mere minutes ago. Having just been reunited with his family, Hermione hoped that Percy knew the importance of second chances.

'Penelope Clearwater!' Hermione shouted frantically, 'You have been dating her since your sixth year – I walked in on you snogging last year.'

Percy's' stand faltered, and his hand shook. 'H-Hermione?' he said weakly; questioningly. He immediately reached out to grab her hand to help her stand, but the hand slipped from his grasp, as if he had lifted a block of ice. He looked into her eyes. 'What...?' he trailed off, seeming to be at a loss for words. Hermione plowed on, and tried to run towards Fred. Her legs failed her; buckling as if made from water. 'I-I can't!' she cried.

She brought a shaking hand up in front of her face; watching as it became transparent. She reached forward to grab Percy's hand; it went right through it. The battle was still raging on around her; Percy was forced to engage in another duel. It seemed the Death Eater was gaining the upper hand. Suddenly, Percy was thrown back into the remaining pile of rubble. The Death Eaters' hood had fallen during the duel, and Hermione recognised him as soon as he turned around. Dolohov. His eyes grew wide as he saw Hermione. His shock was quickly diminished as a large grin took over his face. He looked at her urgently and seemed to be muttering under his breath. _Hurry Up. _In his moment of recognition, he failed to anticipate the violent shot of green that collided with his back. He lay sprawled at Hermione's feet; dead. Percy was hobbling over; wiping blood from his mouth and nose. He suddenly fell to the floor, shaking in sheer agony. Hermione could recognise the affects of the Cruciatus Curse anywhere. She looked up to see Bellatrix Lestrange cackling manically. Hermione had never felt so helpless. She could only lie on the ground and watch Percy suffer the life slowly bleed from Fred as darkness clouded her vision.

ooOOoo

**So yeah... short chapter.**

**It just means my next chapter will be even better! Again, RIP Lily and James Potter... how you muggles celebrate Halloween in such a happy manner disgusts me... Even though I am sitting at the laptop in a cowgirl costume... (Hey – I couldn't find my Gryffindor scarf... DON'T JUDGE ME!)**

**Thanks for reading! Review? Please?**

**EleanorWeasley**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: AT THE BOTTOM! on with the chapter now...**

* * *

Chapter 3

Hermione awoke with a start on a hard, stone floor. Crashes and bangs were sounding from around her, yet her eyelids refused to open. The sound of a wood breaking reached her ears, along with the scraping of... hooves? A snarl came from the other side of the room, then another. She wasn't alone. Forcing her eyelids opened, Hermione gasped at the scene in front of her.

A large black dog with matted fur was jumping around playfully, as if the floor was made of lava. In front of him stood a proud stag; its golden fur bright as the tiny beams of light breaking their way through the cracks in the walls shone on him. The last creature present in the room was standing on its hind legs, taking swipes at the dog. Its sandy fur was caked in dirt, as if he had been rolling around in a swamp for an hour. The werewolf stood tall, its nose high in the air. All three animals stopped their playful antics immediately as they heard the gasp from Hermione.

All eyes turned to her; fear sent trembles through her body as the dog started to growl. The three animals started walking towards her, sniffing the air around her as they drew nearer. _This is it. _Thought Hermione. _I'm going to die. _

The stag and dog turned to each other, as if conversing telepathically. Their eyes were full of fear; the werewolf was oblivious to all, his attention was centred on the cowering girl. The stag and dog seemed to come to a conclusion, as they both turned and stared at her once more. In speed not humanely possible, the stag was towering over the werewolf, pressing it back towards the wall with the help of its extremely large and strong antlers. The werewolf started to protest and fight back; it took several swipes at the stag, but they were not playful. Hermione's attention was grabbed from the two fighting animals as a searing pain shot in her left leg; she screamed in agony as she turned her head and saw the dog with its teeth sunk into her leg. Blood oozed from the wound; the werewolf's attempts at freedom grew more frantic at the sight and scent of the crimson liquid. A tearing sound sounded along with another scream of agony from Hermione as the dog began to drag her from the room.

A few agonizing minutes later, they were outside in the cool air. It stung Hermiones fresh wound, making her cry out in pain. The dog retreated couple of feet, never breaking eye contact with her and started to grow. A boy now stood were the dog was standing not three seconds ago; his black hair is shaggy as he runs a frustrated hand through it; his wand was drawn, and he was in the position to fight. Hermione reached into her pocket with a trembling hand to withdraw her wand, only to find her pocket was empty. She had lost her wand.

The one-sided duel had begun.

Curses were thrown, ranging from harmful to deadly, and all Hermione could do was roll out of the way. The boy stared at her through furious silver eyes; his face twisted in anger. 'Ah, Bella...' he said, his pleasant tone was different to his expression. 'How nice of you to drop by; but there's something... _odd _about you today, isn't there?' His voice was familiar to Hermione; her head hurt, as if a memory was trying to squeeze itself to the front of her brain. Or maybe it was just the fact that she had been thrown to the ground and had bashed her head on the grass. 'What's wrong, Bella?' the boy said tauntingly, 'no words for little Sirius?'

Hermione was taken aback – not only was this boy the fourth person to mistake her for Bellatrix Lestrange, but he had claimed his name to be Sirius. The only Sirius she knew was... dead.

The answers came swarming to her brain in an instant; the werewolf, the stag, Sirius... she was in the presence of the marauders.

'Sirius!' her voice was hoarse and scratchy from disuse; she sounded pathetic. 'Sirius, believe me, I'm not Bellatrix!' Another spell was cast; she had the strong feeling of deja vu. She cried in agony as she rolled to the left, avoiding a red hex that left the grass were she had previously been sitting on singed.

Suddenly, Sirius' wand flew from his hand; the unmistakeable effects of the disarming charm. He turned around, and came face to face with an elderly man, a long white beard on his chin and half moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. 'P-professor D-dumbledore Sir,' Sirius stuttered, but his fearful expression quickly became one of delight as he realised who he was talking to. 'Sir – it's Bellatrix! Stun her! We can take her to Azkaban immediately... you heard what she did to the McLernon family last week!'

He said all this very fast; Hermione could barely make out his words, and was on the verge of unconsciousness. Her once dead Headmaster and best friends godfather were both standing in front of her, one of them trying to get her sent to Azkaban. It was all very surreal. Dumbledore raised a hand to silence Sirius' ramblings. 'Mr Black, we shall not be sending this girl to Azkaban. The likeliness to Miss Lestrange is uncanny, but her magical aura tells me she is not who she seems; please, Sirius, return to your friends, I'm sure they will need all the help they can get after this little encounter tonight.'

Sirius couldn't argue with the Headmaster; he turned, and quickly fled towards a looming dark building; the Shrieking Shack.

Dumbledore turned to Hermione, his piercing gaze intimidating as he looked her up and down. His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Black dots started to obscure Hermiones vision as she was on the verge of falling unconscious. Dumbledore noticed her awful state, and wordlessly conjured a stretcher. Hermione did not object to being levitated onto the stretcher; she was in too much pain to complain.

An ear splitting howl sounded from behind them, followed by a slash and a cry of pain. Dumbledore turned fearfully. Hermione wished she could turn to see what was going on, but her body wasn't cooperating with her mind, and so she had to lie still while the scuffle went on behind her.

Dumbledore's pace quickened as they neared the castle; his slippers ruined as he walked briskly through the grass. They were at the stairs now; Dumbledore shouted on Poppy.

The matron came quickly, running down the stairs hurriedly, not caring that her headpiece had fallen off halfway down the stairs. She took one glance at the Headmaster then at the seemingly lifeless girl on the stretcher and her face turned stony. She hated seeing people injured.

In no time at all, the trio were in the hospital wing. The familiar scent of cleanliness and medicines reached Hermione's nostrils. Her eyes grew wide in fear. She _hated _hospitals. The adults didn't notice her fearful state as they lowered her onto one of the many beds lining the walls.

Her head was tipped back by a freezing hand and a thick potion that was forced down her throat lulled her into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Hermione awoke to a blaring alarm. It rang in her ears, diminishing any hope of getting back to sleep. The noise wasn't like the alarm clock that greeted her ears in her time in Hogwarts; this was an urgent sound. A warning. Immediately, the matron burst forth from her office and came running into the room, her eyes searching the beds frantically for the source of the noise.

Hermione quickly closed her eyes, pretending to be asleep so the matron wouldn't come to her, but her curiosity got the better of her and so Hermione peeked through half closed eyes. The woman had made a beeline towards a bed two spaces away from her. The curtains were quickly drawn, but not before Hermione caught a glimpse of the shiny black hair resting on the pillow. Sirius.

Hermione heard a murmured _Ennervate _from Madam Pomfrey before screams filled the Hospital Wing. The agonized screeches made Hermiones head throb.

The screams seemed to have woken someone else in the room; a boy with sandy hair shot up from his bed across from Hermione, his eyes wide and fearful. His face paled. He must have recognised the voice too. His eyes locked with Hermiones and if possible, he paled even more. He stared at her leg. She glanced at it; a white bandage was wrapped around it. His eyes raked over the wounds and bandages covering her body, his face growing paler with every second.

He looked tired. His tousled sandy hair fell into his amber eyes. Faded scars lined his face. Hermione gasped in realisation. '_Remus'_

Her words were almost inaudible, but the boys ears twitched and his head snapped to look at her face in shock. He heard.

Their contact was broken when Dumbledore came striding into the room, his midnight blue robes swishing around his feet. Two other people followed him into the room. He motioned for them to go to the curtain drawn bed while he strode over to Hermiones bed.

He summoned a chair and sat down, placing a silencing charm around the bed as he did so.

'Elladora,' he said, ignoring the confusion on Hermiones face, 'It seems you have returned to us.'

He was silent for a minute as Hermione tried to make sense of what he had just said. As he realised she did not understand what he had said, Dumbledore continued.

'No doubt you will be shocked at what I am about to tell you, so please, allow me to finish.' Hermione nodded her assent.

'You were born to Orion and Walburga Black on the 6th of November 1959,' Dumbledore peered at Hermione over his glasses, silencing her noises of indignation. 'You disappeared when you were one years old. We lost all trace of you after that.'

Hermione didn't understand. Her parents were Robert and Jane Granger. She was born on the 19th of September 1979. Not November 6th 1959.

Dumbledore noticed her mind working frantically, and so placed his wand on her forehead. Words appeared above her head;

_Elladora Walburga Black_

_6th of November, 1959_

_Pureblood_

_Birth parents; Lord Orion and Lady Walburga Black_

_Twin; Sirius Orion Black_

Hermione had to read the last line twice. She couldn't be Sirius' twin. She just couldn't be. To have a boy try to kill you the night before and then get told he was your twin was a lot to take in.

'If I may be so bold, Elladora-'

'-Hermione.'

Dumbledore looked confused at the interruption. The girl continued.

'My name is Hermione. Not Elladora.'

'I'm afraid that from now on, your name is Elladora. I am unaware as to were you have been for the past 17 years, but I assure you, you are home now.' Dumbledore looked solemn as he told her this. 'Now, were _did _you come from?'

'I don't think the question should be _where_ sir,' she said sadly, 'It is more a matter of _when_.'

Dumbledore looked intrigued; he nodded at her to continue. 'My name is- _was _Hermione Jean Granger. I was born on the 19th of September, 1979 to Robert and Jean Granger. I'm from the future.'

For the next hour, Dumbledore sat silently as Hermi-_Elladora_ explained her life. His expressions varied from happiness, to shock, and finally, to sadness.

He was silent once she had finished her story. His face was blank, but his eyes showed he was having an internal battle with himself. He seemed to have reached a decision as he looked back at the girl on the bed.

'I am afraid I must ask of you a favour, Elladora.' he said, his voice low. 'How far will you go to make sure your friends do not have to suffer through that future?'

'I would die for them,' she answered immediately, with no hesitation.

Dumbledore nodded. 'I must ask you to go back to your home, your _real _home. Number 12 Grimmauld Place. You must act like a pureblood; act like a Black. You are to have no contact with Sirius. I am in desperate need of a spy. You are in the perfect position to do this job. If anyone asks anything of your story, lie.'

Hermione was shocked to say the least. Dumbledore looked to helpless as he asked her to spy for him. She did not need to think.

'I'll do it.' she said, not taking her eyes from Dumbledore. He nodded his approval.

'I shall let you rest and let you recover,' he said as he stood, 'You shall be ready to leave in 2 days. Please, tell no one of this plan.'

With that, Dumbledore walked out of the Hospital, leaving a befuddled Hermione in his wake. She stared at his retreating figure. She was prepared for this task; Harry would have a future.

* * *

**A/N: **

**I can't do anything but apologise.**

**It's been ages since I last updated and I'm so sorry! Do you want to hear my excuses? skip them if you want...**

**My birthday was on the 6th of November! (that's why I made Hermione and Sirius' birthday then as well, so I wont forget!) So I am now 14... I don't feel any different.**

**I sat my Grade 3 piano exam a couple of weeks back and I got my results last week - I passed with merit! *happy dance***

**I've had soooooo much homework its unreal. I wrote a short story for English (which I was quite proud of! Should I let you guys read it?) I done a history report, I wrote **_**another English**_** essay and I have nightly maths... So yeah, a month in the life of Eleanor. **

**I was sick all day yesterday so I thought I would write aaaaaaand there you go! I hope that chapter was okay - I kind of rushed it because I didn't want to leave you waiting any longer...**

**If you didn't understand some of it or want to ask me any questions then pm/review or talk to me on twitter! acciophillester**

**Have a great day! If I don't upload before Christmas, then MERRY CHRISTMAS!**

**Love always,**

**EleanorWeasley x**


	4. Chapter 4: Oops

**Disclaimer: I haven't done one of these in a while... I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter; I only own my original plot and characters!**

**A/N at bottom!**

Chapter 4

Hermione had only been in the Hospital Wing for one night and she was bored.

She would have liked a little company; there was only so much you could discuss with the matron. Granted, no one else knew her in this time frame. Her limbs refused to cooperate, and so she was unable to reach over to the few books stacked upon her bedside table.

The boy in the bed across from her, Remus, had obviously been discharged from the hospital during the night; his bed was vacant, and looked so neat it was as if it had never been occupied. Hermione sighed.

The bed next to her however still had the curtains drawn. The silencing charm was obviously still in place; Hermione couldn't hear anything omitting from the bed, not even the sound of breathing,and yet Madam Pomfrey continued to check on the occupant every day, arms laden with potions. She couldn't hear Sirius at all. Until later that day.

She was counting the cracks in the ceiling for the fifteenth time that day when the screams started. Her head whipped to the bed the noise was coming from. Sirius' bed.

Madam Pomfrey was busy relaying her patients condition to Dumbledore in his office, and so the only two people in the hospital wing were the Black siblings. Forcing her arms to move, Hermione tried to hoist herself upright, but to no avail. Her back was screaming in protest as she continued to attempt to sit up, her face scrunched in determination. After at least two minutes of constant struggling, she managed to stay upright. Now for her legs. She reached forward and lifted the immobile limbs over the side of the side of the bed. On shaking legs, she slowly started to walk over to Sirius' bed, holding onto various things to support her wobbly steps.

A soreness began in her stomach; a sharp pain ever so slight at first, but steadily growing intensity.

She was so close now. Just a couple more steps. Her legs betrayed her after two minutes of walking, and they buckled beneath her. She reached forward and grabbed the curtain for support, not fully contemplating the consequences of her actions. The curtain was ripped from its hangings. The screams stopped. They were reduced to harsh, forced breathing. Hermione looked up at the bed from her position on the floor.

The boy who had fought her so effortlessly the night before was lying in the bed, his stomach and head wrapped in blood soaked bandages. The blood was smeared in three straight lines; Hermione recognised it immediately as a werewolf scratch, having seen numerous people during the battle be treated after encountering Greyback. She brought her hands to her mouth. It was her fault; Remus must have smelt her blood in the shack and lashed out at the nearest person when she escaped. His wounds must have opened; Madam Pomfrey had changed and cleaned his bandages not two hours ago.

Sirius' breaths became more ragged and angry as he saw Hermione.

'Who are you?' he growled venomously, trying to look intimidating despite his wounded state, 'First you appear out of nowhere as the almost identical twin of my cousin and then you claim to be someone else. Who are you?'

_Not your cousins twin _Hermione thought _But close._ Hermione was lost for words; Dumbledore had specifically told her not to have any contact with her twin, yet here she was, sitting on the floor at the bottom of his bed whilst he bombarded her with questions. _Oops._

She was in two minds. Should she tell him her real identity? Or should she pose herself as a nobody? The pain in her stomach was steadily growing more pronounced in every breath. _To hell with it._

'I'm Elladora,' she said, ignoring her pain and hoisting herself up so that she was now perched on the bottom of his bed, 'Elladora Black.'

Sirius' brow scrunched in confusion.

'Elladora,' he whispered, letting the name roll of his tongue. Recognition flashed across his features. 'Elladora!' he said, louder this time.

Hermione thought he would be pleased; after all, who wouldn't want to be reunited with their long lost twin? She was surprised when she heard his voice full of malice; anger.

'You,' he said, his eyes alight with an angry spark, 'You're on my family tree somewhere. I don't know where, but I have seen your name on it before. You are the girl my parents are constantly comparing me to when they think I'm not listening.'

Hermione's mouth opened in shock, but Sirius continued.

'Elladora has been serving the Dark Lord since she was but a year old,' Sirius imitated his mother in a posh, high pitched voice, 'And yet Sirius refuses to even _look _at the Dark Mark. Why can't he be more like her? Why couldn't we have sent him away instead? Send me where, Elladora?'

The last question was not one of his mothers, but rather one of Sirius', directed at Hermione. Her mouth opened, and yet no words came from her mouth. He was obviously not informed of her time travel escapade, or that she was in fact his twin.

'I-I-I...' Hermione stuttered. For once, she was at a complete loss for words.

Sirius' eyes held a manic gleam, his true family side finally showing through his rebellious façade, 'Probably some Death Eater camp,' he said, 'Training little ones to be just like you, were you?'

Hermione clenched her eyes shut and held her stomach. The pain was too much.

'...probably came here to start recruiting in the school...' Sirius continued to talk, oblivious to her agonising expression. Hermione looked down her hospital gown to her stomach; an angry red mark was slowly climbing up her stomach, like a vine curling its way around a house.

'...aspire to be just like Bellatrix, don't you?'

Another red gash started to climb alongside the already large mark on her stomach.

'...You've probably been signed up to be a Death Eater since birth...'

A third mark started to form. She buckled over in pain. They looked almost identical to Sirius' wounds...

'You probably have the Mark just now,' Sirius rasped, and without warning, he reached forward, ignoring the wounds on his stomach, his steely silver eyes set on Hermione's left arm. Years of constant defensive skills after having to defend Harry hit Hermione like a ton of bricks as she quickly caught his arm and twisted it around. She couldn't have him seeing her scar given to her by the person everyone was mistaking her for... She couldn't have him realising she was classed as a _mudblood _were she came from_. _It would raise too many questions.

Sirius smiled triumphantly. 'See?' he said, pulling his arm free from Hermione's grasp. 'You're hiding your Mark from me. You're nothing but a Dea-'

'-SHUT UP.' Hermione had had enough. His constant accusations had left her with a pounding headache. He did as he was told.

Hermione was breathing heavily through clenched teeth, trying to contain the screams that wanted to rip forth from her mouth as a result of her newly formed wounds on her stomach.

'I-am-NOT-a-Death-Eater,' it took every ounce of her strength to bite out those six words. She couldn't control it; a scream burst from the back of her throat. She started to fall off the bed slowly. Before she could hit the ground, a cold hand grasped her own, pulling her back onto the bed.

She felt something stirring in her stomach. Not pain, but a sort of _protectiveness_ for the boy in front of her. The pain started to leave her system as Sirius did not let go of her hand. She looked into Sirius' eyes and saw them not looking at her, but rather at his own bandaged stomach. The blood staining the bandages seemed to be flowing back into his stomach. His breathing grew steady, as did Hermiones. She looked down her own hospital gown and saw the ugly red marks that once marred her stomach had retreated until they were nothing more than three small white scars below her belly button.

Sirius finally looked up and made eye contact.

His eyes were wide with surprise, his mouth formed a small 'o'. He looked down at their clasped hands in wonder.

'How did you-' he started.

'-I don't know'

'Did you feel...?'

Hermione nodded wordlessly.

'Who are you?' Sirius' question did not hold the anger that it did before; it was full of pure curiosity. Hermione smiled.

'I'm family.' she said, giving a sincere smile.

Minutes passed, and the twins sat silently, staring into each others eyes. No words were spoken between them. Sirius was still oblivious to the fact that his twin who had been taken from him at birth was sitting in front of him. Hermione doubted he even knew he had a twin. She didn't see the need to tell him just yet.

The hospital wing doors swung open without warning, and the matron bustled in, her arms laden with oddly shaped potion bottles. On seeing the two teens perched upon the bed, she proceeded to drop the potions and hurry over.

'What do you two think you are doing?!' she screeched, already running her wand over the two to check their injuries. She cast numerous diagnosis charms over Sirius' head and stomach. A pale yellow shine greeted her. The colour of neutrality. He was healed. Shocked, the matron turned quickly to Hermione. 'What have you done?' she whispered.

Madam Pomfrey didn't wait for an answer; she started to herd Hermione into her bed and performed the diagnosis charm on her. The results were the same as Sirius'. The same yellow glow was present.

The matron put her wand away and adjusted her hat.

'Well, Miss Black,' she said in a proper voice, 'I have half a mind to tell Dumbledore himself of your actions. You are weak; you should not be using magic to heal yourself never mind another one of my patients!'

Hermione had the decency to lower her head in shame, even though she had no idea what had happened.

'I will leave you two to rest now. Mister Black, you shall be okay to leave tomorrow morning.' She turned to Hermione. 'As for you, Miss Black, you are free to leave now. The Headmaster requested your presence as soon as you were healed. Which, I suppose, is now.'

Hermione nodded and stood up. In a matter of minutes, she was dressed in the same jeans and t-shirt she had worn upon arrival to this time, albeit it was now clean. No longer did blood and dirt stain the old clothes, instead they felt warm; clean. She felt much lighter; she didn't have to walk around with strangers blood on her anymore.

Hermione felt different; it was as if a part of her was missing as she walked down the hospital wing, her shoes echoing off the white stone floor. The fine piece of wood usually in her vice like grip was in a different time. The familiar hum of magic she felt whenever she was with her wand was absent. She longed to see its familiar vine-like pattern.

She walked past Sirius' bed and saw him looking at her with a confused expression. She gave a small wave and a sad smile; he still had no idea who she was.

She looked along the familiar corridors of Hogwarts as she left the hospital wing. She took a deep breath. The last time she had walked these halls was in the middle of battle. She ran down the stairs, subconsciously jumping as if to avoid he bodies she knew littered the floor in her own time. To any onlooker, it would have looked as if she was dancing down the staircase. Only she knew the truth.

She started to notice little things; paintings where missing from the walls, initials scratched into the banisters were no longer present. She hopped off the staircase and walked down a familiar corridor. Her brain was screaming at her not to go this way, but she went anyway. She didn't understand the significance of the corridor until she was halfway down it. A sudden onslaught of memories hit her like a ton of bricks. It was as if someone had turned her on mute; she could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing. She jumped back in fright as she recognised were she was.

She could see them all; not ghosts, but merely figments of her imagination controlled by a memory; Percy writhing on the floor, her wand lying a few feet away, rubble scattered around the corridor; blood stains in every corner. And Fred... Tears started to stream down her face. To have the only person you have ever held true feelings for lay dying in front of you...

She fell to the floor and backed up into a corner. She pulled her knees to her chest and covered her face with her arms as she grieved. Gut wrenching sobs burst forth from her covered mouth. She couldn't control them.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder. Her vision was hazy with tears; all the colours in the room were all mixed together. She wiped her arm across her eyes and looked up to her companion. Warm, almond eyes stared back at her. She recognised him immediately.

Remus crouched down so that he was at her level. He wiped her tears away with a soft flick of his thumb.

'Hey,hey,hey shhh...' he whispered soothingly, 'It's okay...'

Hermione shook her head. 'I-it's not,' she hiccuped. 'They're all gone... All of them.'

If Remus did not understand, he did not show it as he continued to console the crying girl in front of him.

He ignored the fact that the strange girl was crying all over his school jumper. He ignored that he did not know who she was. He did not ignore, however, her smell. It was so familiar...

He froze as he realised were he had smelt the scent before. He gripped the girl tighter. It was _her. _From last night.Her blood now stained the floor of the Shrieking Shack. The smell of her blood would never leave his mind.

The girl suddenly jerked her head up and wiped her eyes. She looked at Remus.

'I-I'm s-s-so sorry,' she stuttered, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment. 'I didn't mean to ruin your jumper... I was just so upset and...'

Remus smiled. 'Don't worry about it.' He stood up and extended his hand to help Hermione.

Hermione nodded as she stood up, her cheeks still rosy. She dusted herself off and smiled. 'Thank you.' she said simply. Remus nodded.

The stood in silence for a minute, until they both talked at the same time..

'I better go see Dumbledore-'

'I have Prefect duties-'

They both stopped talking, and laughed awkwardly.

'Will I ever see you again?' Remus asked, somewhat shyly.

Hermione shrugged. 'I don't like to stay in the same place for too long.'

Remus nodded and turned. As he walked down the corridor, he looked over his shoulder at Hermione and gave a little wave. She returned it with a small smile.

As soon as he was out of sight, Hermione stamped her foot on the ground in frustration. _Stupid, stupid, stupid Hermione! _She thought. _You have now held a conversation with two people you weren't supposed to talk two. Well done._

She continued to berate herself all the way to Dumbledore's office.

Once she reached the familiar stone gargoyle, she stopped. Dumbledore hadn't told her the password. She sighed irritably. She raised a hand and hesitantly knocked on the statue.

'Um, sir?' she said questioningly, trying to look past the statue. 'Um, it's me Herm- Elladora.' she corrected herself quickly.

'The Headmaster has been expecting you,' a deep voice rumbled from the gargoyle.

It immeditley jumped aside to reveal a winding staircase, immediately granting her access. She hopped on the stairs as it turned and ascended. As it neared the end of its ascent, Hermione was met with a large oak door. She knocked loudly.

She entered as Dumbledore called 'Come in.' There was nothing on his desk except for a single eagle quill.

'Your portkey.' Dumbledore said simply.

Hermione was shocked. 'I'm leaving now?'

Dumbledore nodded. 'Oh, yes. It would seem highly suspicious if you were to stay away from Grimmuald Place any longer. It leaves in 30 seconds.'

Hermione's eyes widened. 'But sir! I have so many questions to ask you! Why am I here? Who sent me here? What am I to do?!'

Dumbledore said nothing, but threw the eagle quill at Hermione. On instinct, she reached out and caught it, until her eyes grew wide as she felt a tug at her navel. The last she saw of Dumbledore was his distraught face as he watched her disappear into thin air.

**A/N:**

**Hey everyone! I wasn't too late in updating, was I? **

**First of all, I hope you had a very good Christmas and a great new year! On the 31****st**** of January, it was actually my one year anniversary of joining Fanfiction! I tried to upload this then but it just wasn't finished... **

**I hope you aren't too disappointed with this chapter – I had it all typed out the day after I uploaded chapter 3 and guess what? I shut down my computer before I could save it. So all 2000+ words were lost. Fml. **

**Anyway, reviews are always appreciated! Also, if you want a character in this story, review on this story (even just an 'update soon!' or something) and then pm me your details (name, age, personality, looks etc) and I'll see what I can do! I'm sorry if I kill you though...**

**Next chapter won't be up for a while – I start school again on Monday :/**

**In the meantime, follow me on twitter! (at symbol) acciophillester **

**Love always,**

**EleanorWeasley x**

_**uploaded: 3/01/2013**_

_**word count: 3014**_


	5. Chapter 5: Meeting the Parents

**Disclaimer; still don't own it. *sigh***

Chapter 5

The sickening sensation of travelling by portkey left Hermione's system almost as soon as it started as she reached her destination. Darkness obscured her vision; the only light present was a flickering street lamp beside her. She landed clumsily on a patch of wet grass. Quickly standing, she looked back and forth to see if anyone had witnessed her sudden arrival. The street, however, was empty, completely void of people.

Despite the darkness, Hermione knew where she was. The gloomy and eerie atmosphere surrounding Grimmuald Place was exactly the same as that in her own time. In the little light provided, Hermione glanced down at her attire. She was still dressed in the clothes from her time. Her black skinny jeans were ripped at the knees, her converse full of holes and her Beatles t-shirt faded. She looked about as muggle as you could get; that wasn't exactly the look she was aiming for if she hoped to fit in with the Blacks. Hermione was at a loss as to what to wear. She had no idea what people wore in this time, much less what style purebloods were wearing. From her terrifying memories of Bellatrix, Hermione could only remember the mad woman wearing a black corset dress. Without her wand, Hermione couldn't alter her clothing at all. She had to settle with turning her t-shirt inside out and closing the holes in her jeans as best she could. She walked across the street to the many houses lined there. Counting along, she finally reached number 11 and 13. She closed her eyes. She didn't know whether she would still be allowed access in this time; after all, the Secret Keeper of this time had not given her the location. And yet, here she was; she knew exactly were the house was, and after her extensive research of Fidelius charms, she knew that if you were not told the location by the secret keeper, you should have no recollection of the location whatsoever. Perhaps, the charm was not enforced in this time. The Blacks were proud people from what she had learned, and so they may have not seen fit to place such a protective charm on their household, choosing otherwise to use their own Black incantations.

Hermione cleared her mind of all thoughts, and focused solely on the address.

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place._

She opened her eyes. Nothing had changed. She closed her eyes again, and imagined the house emerging from in between numbers 11 and 13

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place_

She repeated it like a mantra in her head.

_Number 12, Grimmauld Place_

The long anticipated scraping of stones met her ears as finished her thought. She opened her eyes to see two buildings slowly moving apart to reveal yet another house.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione once again looked down the street, and, feeling satisfied that it was empty; she hesitantly knocked on the large ornate door.

Nothing happened.

She stood there for 5 minutes until she knocked again. Hermione took a startled step back as the door suddenly swung open.

'Whit dae yew want?!'

Hermione jumped in fright and looked down to the direction of the strong Scottish voice. A mangy house elf stood leaning against the doorframe as if he hadn't a care in the world. He looked young for a house elf; his brown hair was full of dirt and he had hardly any wrinkles on his face. His arms were folded in an arrogant manner, and he sneered up at Hermione.

'Hurry up then; I haven't got all day,' the house elf spat, 'Yer makin me miss the fitbah game.'

Hermione blinked in shock at the rudeness of the house elf. Whatever possessed the Blacks to enslave such an impolite creature? Shuffling footsteps sounded from behind the house elf, and an elderly woman came into view. She wore a simple black floor length dress, the bottom half of it covered with a clean white apron. Her greying hair was pulled back into a tight bun, but a few strands broke free as she strode towards the door.

'Brizzle,' she scolded her voice tight with frustration towards the house elf, 'What have I told you about greeting guests?'

Rolling sheepishly on the balls of his feet, Brizzle looked to the ground in shame, 'Treat 'em with respect and dignity 'nless their blood is filthy.'

The old woman reluctantly nodded, a scowl on her face. She obviously didn't agree with this at all. She seemed to remember there was someone at the door, as she looked away from the scowling house elf.

On seeing Hermione, she immediately curtsied.

Hermione's face burned in a brilliant blush. 'I-it's okay,' she said, embarrassed, 'You don't need to curtsy or anything.'

The woman gave her a faint smile, but otherwise paid her assurances no heed.

'What can I help you with, My Lady?'

If possible, Hermione was even more embarrassed than before, 'Well, em, I need to, that is to say... Does Walburga Black live here...?'

All colour drained from the womans' face. 'Y-yes...' she replied. She quickly composed herself. 'Would you like to request her presence?'

Hermione tried to match the woman's posh words, 'Yes,' she replied, 'That would be most helpful.'

The woman curtsied again and hobbled back into the house in search of Walburga. Not one minute had passed when the woman quickly came back to the door.

'Sorry, may I ask your name?' she said to Hermione.

'Oh, yes of course,' Hermione said awkwardly. 'My name is He- Elladora; Elladora Black.'

The woman's face paled. 'E-elladora?' she said, looking up at Hermione through watery blue eyes.

Hermione tugged at her hair self-consciously. 'Erm, yes...'

'You have returned...' the woman said in awe. Her smile slowly started to fade. 'You have returned...' She repeated the sentence, but this time, her voice was horror-stricken. 'You must follow me.'

Hermione blinked in surprise, but followed the woman's beckoning.

'If you don't mind me asking,' Hermione said, 'What is your name?'

The woman seemed startled to be addressed so personally. 'I am Sue, Sue Jones,' she said in a friendly tone. 'I am the maid of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.'

She said it with supposed pride, but Hermione could see the faint trace of a grimace gracing the woman's features.

The front door slammed behind them as Brizzle closed the door in anger. Hermione could hear him grumbling under his breath about 'Damn Blacks,' and 'Won't even get me tickets to the World Cup...'

The hall was immediately clouded in darkness; the small amount of light previously provided by the open door was now gone, and now the only source of light was that of the torches in the portraits lining the walls.

Sue quickly muttered _LumosAlle _under her breath,and immediately all torches in the room lit up. She quickly led the way down the long hall. She turned to face Hermione as they approached a large door. Sue examined Hermione's clothes and gasped.

'If my mistress sees you in clothes like that, you will be as good as dead,' she said, already ushering her down another corridor and up some stairs. 'Come; I will get you dressed appropriately.'

They ascended the main staircase hurriedly. Hermione tried her best to ignore the gruesome heads of deceased house elves mounted on the walls. She knew this place so well and yet she hardly recognised it. It was much more impressive than the house she was used to; the carpets were a deep shade of green that contrasted with the dark wallpaper.

They turned a corner and Hermione was hit with sudden painful memories. She definitely knew where they were now.

Countless times she had walked this very corridor to reach the room in which she and Ginny had both shared during their stay at Grimmauld Place. _Ginny. _The name alone was enough to make Hermione's hands shake.

Her pain when she had found Ginny in the midst of the Final Battle. Broken. Mangled. Used.

_Her body was collapsed against the crumbling wall; her limbs were bent at unnatural angles. Hermione had run towards her friend. She fell to her knees beside her, unable to comprehend that one of the bravest woman she knew was at the brink of death. Ginny was shaking violently; she seemed unable to form words, only gasps as she struggled for breath. Hermione had grasped the girl's hand and pulled her close. All awareness and thoughts of the battle raging around them were absent as Hermione kissed Ginny's hair. The once beautiful auburn colour was now caked with dirt, stone and dust; certain strands were encrusted with crimson blood. Hermione had heard footsteps run down the corner; they were fast, determined, and came to a stop in a matter of seconds. She looked up to see a tired boy; his emerald green eyes were wide as he stared at the pair huddled on the floor. Harry ran forward without hesitation. He collapsed to his knees, and Hermione stood up to allow him to pull Ginny into his chest. His body wracked with pained silent cries. Hermione had saw Ginny's eyes flutter open for a split second; a lone tear fell down her cheek, creating a clear path through the blood and dirt. Ginny started to shake violently again. Harry had pulled back and grasped her arms in an attempt to still her. Her shaking ceased as her face relaxed into a peaceful smile. She stared into Harry's eyes, never breaking contact. Still unable to form words, Ginny mouthed three unmistakeable words to Harry._

_I love you._

_Her eyes had still bore into Harry's as her body went slack into his arms. A gut-wrenching cry had burst forth from his mouth. Ginny's eyes were glassed over; they were still open, but Hermione knew she could see nothing. _

_Harry had pulled her into his chest and did nothing to stop the tears that fell and the cries that followed. He had buried his face in her hair. _

Hermione was thrown back to reality from her idle trance as she heard Sue recite spells. Hermione shook her head to rid herself of the painful memories; she could not risk having flashbacks of her previous life.

As she focused on reality, she noticed they were standing in front of an oak door. Sue stood beside her, reciting ancient spells Hermione had never heard before in an attempt to open it. She heard a satisfied _click_ as the door opened and allowed access. Sue stood back and motioned for Hermione to enter first.

What she saw was not what she was expecting.

The room was the exact same size as it had been when she and Gin- when she had inhabited the room; flamed torches dotted the walls, making the room illuminated by a soft orange glow. Hermione looked around in amazement. Gone was the furniture that had previously filled the room. The wall to her left was completely taken over by a large wardrobe; the black ornate doors to which Hermione could not ignore their beauty. To her right was a wall devoted solely to mirrors; they stretched as high as the ceiling, reflecting the large vanity screen and many mannequins that were standing in the middle of the room, showcasing the most elegant and extravagant dresses Hermione had ever seen; each were covered with a matching velvet cloak.

She turned to Sue in amazement.

'What is this place?' she asked, staring wide eyed at the maid.

Sue smiled, 'This is your dressing room,' she said, 'I have had strict orders to keep it in good condition, and to keep the clothes up to date in hope of your return.'

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. From what the elder Sirius had told of his mother's nature, Hermione had believed the Black mother to be a spiteful and cruel woman; having her portrait scream obscenities at her constantly had not helped improve her image of the woman. But Hermione found herself questioning her judgement. The woman had cared enough to see that a separate room be kept in excellent condition in the hope that her only daughter would return from the future.

Hermione turned and saw Sue walking towards the large wardrobe; with a complicated hand gesture, the woman opened the doors with her wand. They opened wide and Hermione's eyes widened in shock.

As a little girl, Hermione had been entranced by the fictional world of Narnia, and had always hoped to stumble across a wardrobe that could take her to a different world, away from the harsh reality of her miserable primary school life. After having received her letter to Hogwarts, Hermione had soon forgotten the magical world she had dreamed of visiting, until her 5th year when she was introduced to the Room of Requirement. Her childlike nature had brought her back to the mysterious room many times a week as she made it look like the mystical world of Narnia.

This wardrobe acted in the same way as C.S Lewis had described; she felt like little Lucy Pensieve stumbling across this magnificent discovery, but instead of the snowy land that greeted the little girl, Hermione was now faced with a seemingly endless array of clothes.

Every wall of the wardrobe was laden with racks and racks of beautifully embroidered dresses of dark colours and velvet cloaks encrusted with silver lining and emerald jewels. Hermione had never seen the need to invest in stylish clothes; her mind was focused solely on achieving and succeeding. She cared for fashion even less when on the Hocrux Hunt. She was thankful that she had clothes that were still intact; she did not care how they looked. Now, however, she realised that in order to uphold her status as a Black, she had to put a lot of effort into the way in which she presented herself to others. She had to learn to take pride in her choice of dress.

Sue led the way to the far corner; she was obviously extremely familiar with this room. She started shuffling through the many dresses, and pulled out a few and sat them on the table opposite. Hermione was still too dazed by the room to be of any use to the maid.

'Aha,' said Sue suddenly, arms laden with about seven dresses, 'Let's go and pick one.'

Hermione immediately ran forward and relieved Sue of some of the heavy clothing. 'Here,' she said, 'Let me help.'

To say Sue was astonished would be an understatement. Ever since the mysterious girl had entered the Black household she had shown nothing but kindness to Sue; it was not the usual expected behaviour of a Black. But then again, Sue was briefly told of Elladora's condition; no one in this time knew of her time in the future, so perhaps her behaviour here reflected on her manner in the future…

The two ladies walked out of the wardrobe and laid the dresses onto a large oak table. Hermione had never seen such beautiful clothing. Although she had never been inclined to choose dark clothing, she understood that that would be her main shade of attire.

Sue held up a dress to Hermione. It was a deep shade of forest green; it had a corset like design to which Hermione felt her cheeks colour red. She shook her head fervently. She was much too self-conscious to be seen wearing a dress like that.

Sue nodded in understanding, and tapped her chin in thought. Hermione, however, was drawn to the last dress on the table. It was the most beautiful intense shade of midnight blue; so dark it was bordering on black. A vine-like pattern wrapped itself around the sleeves, as if clinging to the radiant fabric. A raven coloured jewel sat in the middle of the bodice, flickering in the light omitting from the flaming torches around the room.

Sue turned and noticed how the girl's eyes lit up as she looked at the dress, and she walked over briskly. Holding up the dress to Hermione, Sue beamed.

'It's perfect, My Lady,' she said truthfully. 'Why not try it on?'

Hermione nodded and took the dress behind the large vanity screen in the middle of the room. She was glad Sue was allowing her the option of getting dressed alone; she was extremely uncomfortable in getting dressed in front of people; even more so now. Taking off her clothes, Hermione stared at her reflection in the mirror in shock.

She knew she had lost a fair amount of weight, but this was bordering on extreme.

Due to the Horcrux Hunt, Hermione's eating habits had been tampered with severely. Gone were the long nights curled up with Crookshanks drinking tea and reading books, and in their place were many nights spent eating uncooked food with hardly any nutrition. She poked at her sunken stomach, and gasped when she looked at her ribs. The bones were too visible for comfort.

She tried to ignore her feeble body and set her mind on the dress in front of her.

It was surprisingly easy to get on; the fabric slipped easily over her head and sat neatly on her body, not to tight and yet not too loose. Never before had she felt so comfortable in an article of clothing of which she never wore.

She reached behind her and tried to fasten the almost invisible zip at the back, but only managed to get it half way.

'Em, Sue…?' she called out hesitantly, 'Could you… could you possibly help me? This zip is being impossible.'

Hermione heard a rustle of fabric as Sue came hurrying round the vanity screen. She gasped as she saw Hermione.

'Don't you look precious!' she squealed, walking behind Hermione to assist her, 'you look gorgeous, My Lady; that colour rea-'

Sue's voice trailed away to nothing and she let her hands slowly slip from the zip. Hermione looked in the mirror in the direction of the maid with a questioning glance. Sue's hands were pressed up against her mouth in shock as she stared at Hermione's exposed back. Silent seconds passed as Hermione realised what Sue was gaping at. She suddenly became very self-aware and turned so that her back was not facing the shocked maid.

After another few painful seconds, Sue's watery blue eyes finally looked into Hermione's.

Hermione knew exactly what had upset the maid.

The scars stretched across her back like branches on a tree. Some were old; they were simply lines of white skin. Others stood out a lot more. Small red scars were scattered over the upper part of her back, as result of the glass from the broken window through which she and Harry has narrowly escaped from Bathilda Bagshot's house. Another scar peeked from the bottom of the dress; a scar which she knew was connected to the one stretch across her stomach, thanks to Dolohov in her fifth year. The most recent and by far the worst scar stretched down her entire back. A well-aimed slicing hex during the battle; she had no idea who had performed the curse. The wound had closed by now, but the skin around it had blackened due to infection and lack of treatment. The angry red of the fresh scar looked almost unnatural. The wound was deep; the pain was deeper.

Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but no words formed. She could only stand in defeat as Sue gazed at her through sympathetic eyes.

Sue shook her head as if to rid herself of the tears she knew would fall at any moment. It was obvious the girl standing in front of her had been through too much for such a young age; but it was also clear that she did not want to talk about it. Sue smiled at the broken girl. She could never understand the pain and terror she had been through, but she had to do her best to be there for her. She nodded as if confirming her thoughts, and motioned for Hermione to turn around.

Hermione was hesitant. No one had ever seen the scars marring her body aside from herself. She doubted anyone knew they were there. Closing her eyes, she turned around slowly, and allowed Sue to fasten the zip in silence.

Sue placed her hands on Hermione's shoulders and guided her over to a small stool. As she stood on the wooden surface, Hermione noticed the mirrors surrounding her. They allowed her to view every aspect of herself.

She had almost forgotten what she looked like.

Her newly grown black hair felt odd on her back; she was not used to straight hair of any kind. She looked at her reflection through a strangers eyes; they had lost the chocolate warmth they held in the 90's, and instead they were replaced with a harsh, cold silver.

Hermione hated how she looked.

She had spent all of her life being teased for her large teeth and bushy hair, but she would do anything to have them back. The familiarity would be welcomed. She looked pretty; that she could not deny. But it was a cold beauty she held; her now sharp features did not reflect her warm personality in the slightest. However, Hermione had to admit; her new looks suited the dress she wore perfectly.

She turned to look at Sue. Said maid was standing with a beaming smile on her face.

'You look beautiful, My Lady,' she said, 'Come; you must see your mother now.'

Hermione's previously blushing cheeks were now void of colour, making her look more pale than usual. The thought of meeting the Black fam- her _parents _scared her. They would never be her real parents. Her real parents lived in Ottery St. Catchpole, in the little house she had lived in all her life. Her real parents loved her unconditionally. Her real parents didn't even know her anymore.

Hermione followed Sue out of the dressing room and through countless corridors until they were both standing in front of a large door. Sue knocked loudly, and motioned for Hermione to stay there until she returned. Sue disappeared behind the door and closed it behind her.

Hermione took a minute to calm herself.

Here she was, meeting the people who had made Sirius' life a living hell. She was meeting the people who were her supposed parents.

Hermione jumped in fright as she heard a smash coming from behind the door. She heard the hurried scraping of a chair. Closing her eyes, Hermione took a calming breath.

The doors in front of her swung open and in front of her stood a breathless woman. Her black hair was perched high upon her head in an extravagant take on a messy bun. Her sharp cheekbones stood out against her pale face, as did the few wrinkles gracing her forehead.

Upon seeing Hermione, Walburga Black all but collapsed at the door. A man not much older than Walburga ran forward to assist her, his emerald tailcoat trailing behind him as he approached. Hermione blinked in surprise as she attempted not to let her shock show. She was certain Orion Black was standing in front of her; his uncanny resemblance to Sirius unnerved her. His curls were not as prominent as Sirius', and the grey eyes were void of the warmth they held, but nonetheless; they were identical.

Orion held his wife close, but did not break eye contact with Hermione. His steel gaze wavered as he realised who was standing in front of him.

Hermione suddenly remembered who these people were supposed to be. These were supposed to be her parents; they probably were not expecting their lost daughter to just stand there silently as they were reunited after 17 years. Hermione filled her head with images she swore she would never think of again. She willed – no, _needed _tears to stream down her face. Faces filled her minds vision. _Harry. Ron. Ginny. Fred. George._

The first tear broke through her eyelid barricade. It rolled down her cheek, taking with it all hope of returning to her life. She hoped the salty liquid looked as though it was directed towards the reunion with her parents.

'Mother,' she choked on her words for effect, 'Father?'

That was all it took for them to run forward and engulf their daughter in their arms. They felt unfamiliar to Hermione. The somewhat affectionate embrace lacked the warmth of the Grangers'. However, she could only return the hug and bury her face in the crook of her fathers' elbow. He kissed her hair in return.

'Don't worry, my precious girl,' Walburga mumbled into her hair, 'We will never let you go. Not again. Not ever.'

Hermione wasn't sure if that were a good or a bad thing.

**A/N**

**Em…. Hello!**

**I can do nothing but apologise – it's been over 3 months since my last update! **

**School has had me a little frazzled, and I've been preparing for my piano exam, and all my school exams, and my radio show and all the things that come with being a 14 year old girl and sefghsdjklhtvnrystguisjghjshjglsghg. That is how I feel.**

**This chapter was more description than anything; I'm sorry if you find it a little boring! It's over 4000 words; I reckon you all deserve a longer chapter after how long I have made you wait!**

**Anyway, the next chapter again will not be up for a while because – I'M GOING TO AUSTRALIA ON MONDAY! **

**Yep! My first holiday and I'm going to Australia (I live in Scotland) for 3 and a half weeks! I'm super excited! If any of you could recommend books for me to read on the 23 hour flight that would be great…**

**Anyway, thanks for reading! Please leave me reviews; you don't know how happy they make me!**

**Love Always,**

**EleanorWeasley**

**(P.S – anyone watching the new series of Doctor Who? I love it! I wish Rory came back though… *sigh*)**


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